


swimming with the sharks (until we drown)

by Tedronai



Series: The End of an Age [6]
Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7265416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedronai/pseuds/Tedronai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moira Almea always knew she'd have to face him again some day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	swimming with the sharks (until we drown)

**Author's Note:**

> Over two weeks late and not even with starbucks, but happy birthday Mina~
> 
> (Yes, I had to reference [this](http://pettymotives.tumblr.com/post/107023948935/so-elan-was-talking-about-what-if-asmodean-ran). Still love it to pieces. :D Also the title is obviously from Vegas Lights by Panic! at the Disco, which I feel is a great song for the end of the Age of Legends.)

The gathering was without a doubt one of the most pretentious affairs Moira Almea had ever attended. She was not old enough to say things like ‘back in the day’ or ‘when I was young’ but she remembered a time when things had been… different. People had always used social events to network, make advantageous connections, to dig up dirt on their competitors or spread it — human nature hadn’t changed that fundamentally — but the dangerous undercurrent that accompanied such affairs now was new.

Of course, there were whispers about what was behind the changes, what some went as far as to claim was responsible for everything that was wrong with the world these days. The Shadow, people were calling it, though the general public had no idea that there was a very real organised crime syndicate behind the majority of the deaths, disappearances and assaults. They thought the Shadow was metaphorical. How cute.

Moira knew because she had been targeted. She still didn’t know why, any more than she knew why Alwin Kait or Eilen Sune Taerena or any of the other musicians had been targeted in those weeks leading up to the attack that had changed her life, years ago now, but it had happened and she thought she knew who must be behind it all. The only connecting factor between any of them had been that damned dinner party and Elan Morin Tedronai. And very conspicuously, there was one musician who had been invited to that dinner and who had never been assaulted.

Looking at the clock, Moira pushed him out of her mind and picked up her violin case; it was nearly time for the performance.

 

* * *

 

Even the applause after a popular performance seemed increasingly fake every time she stood on the stage to receive it. That part was probably just her imagination, but she couldn’t help the feeling when she took a final bow and exited the stage. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Tedronai, a stylish yet somber sight in all black, clapping politely but his attention elsewhere.

 

Back in the dressing room she carefully placed the instrument back in its case, redid the wards that would alert her if anyone as much as touched the case, and changed out of her stage clothes and into a ball gown. She had to stay for at least an hour longer though she would have much rather quit the place and got as far from Tedronai as possible. Having no concrete evidence she couldn’t go around accusing someone of Tedronai’s status of associating with the Shadow, but she was certain that the enigmatic scholar had tried to have her murdered. That — understandably, in her opinion — put something of a damper to her desire to interact with him.

 

Of course, trying to avoid someone in a crowd only tended to make sure you certainly ran into them. “Miss Almea,” a smooth voice said right by her left shoulder. “Your performance was dazzling, as always. Congratulations.”

She forced a smile. “Thank you,” she said, inclining her head slightly. “It is an honour to be here tonight.”

A ghost of a sardonic smile touched Tedronai’s lips. “The honour is ours, I assure you. We are exceedingly lucky to have you with us.”

“You flatter me,” Moira replied. She was exceedingly lucky to be not just here but alive at all, and she didn’t like the feeling that behind his implacable mask of near-indifference, Tedronai was laughing at her discomfort. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.”

“Absolutely.” With another smile like a knife in the dark, Tedronai bowed formally and sidestepped gracefully out of her way as she made a beeline towards the bar.

 

Two drinks later — well into her third — she thought her heart rate was finally returning to normal and her hands stopped shaking. She raised the glass to her lips, when suddenly her gaze fell on someone sitting a few seats away. Gin accidentally inhaled was nowhere near as enjoyable as gin ingested the way it was meant to be, and by the time she was able to stop coughing she had attracted something of a crowd of worried onlookers. She waved them off with a small, self-deprecating laugh, making inane assurances that she was fine… But her eyes were drawn back to the man still watching her.

Finally she picked up her glass and moved over to sit next to him. “Joar.”

Joar Addam looked like he hadn’t been sleeping too well and his hand twitched nervously towards his drink. “Ah. Miss Almea.”

“I believe I’ve told you to call me Moira,” Moira said. It was surprisingly easy to keep her voice neutral. Practice makes perfect, she supposed; she’d certainly had a lot of that since — that day.

Joar laughed, a short, mirthless sound edging close to hysteria. “You did. You did indeed, but. That was before—” He swallowed and glanced around before continuing. “Well, that was before.”

“And you feel that that’s changed?” Moira asked. 

Joar shrugged, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “Well. You know.” He made a vague gesture, then picked up his glass and drained it before getting up. “Walk with me.”

Moira raised her eyebrows and fixed him with a level stare, but she couldn’t believe he would try to assassinate her in the middle of a high society party — he was nowhere near brave enough — and so she took his arm and let him lead her towards one of the balconies overlooking the gardens. “So,” she said as they made their way through the crowd, but then she couldn’t think of how to continue.

“Indeed,” he replied. He glanced sideways at her. “You’ve cut your hair.”

“You’ve joined the Shadow,” Moira replied in a matching tone. She felt him flinch.

“Yes, I—” he began but trailed off without finishing the thought. They reached the balcony, quickly vacated by the two young women who had been immersed in a passionate kiss behind the curtains. Moira detached herself from Joar and turned to face him, leaning casually on the railing. He looked possibly more awkward than she’d ever seen him. “It suits you,” he said faintly.

It took Moira a moment to realise that he was talking about her hair again. She shook her head with a sigh. “Joar, I can help you,” she said in a low voice. “It’s not too late, you can get out, just help us bring down Tedronai and we’ll protect you—”

She was cut off by his incredulous laugh. “You,” he wheezed, still laughing though not as if he were actually amused. “If I betrayed the Great Lord there is no force on this planet that could protect me.”

“I escaped,” Moira replied coolly. “And I was not trained in combat. Then. I am now, for obvious reasons. You’d be surprised what I can do even by myself, and it wouldn’t be just me.”

Joar was still shaking with barely suppressed laughter, though his face had a sickly cast and his hand shook as he reached for the railing for support. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Then enlighten me,” she snapped, careful to keep the volume down nonetheless. “I have allies. Latra Posae, Ilyena Therin, they would grant you their protection for your co-operation, I can guarantee you that. Joar, we can help you—”

“I don’t want your help!” he shouted, then flinched at the loudness of his own voice. He rubbed at his face with both hands, breathing heavily. When he spoke again, however, his voice was steady and completely void of emotion. “I made my choice. I don’t want ‘out’, I’m precisely where I want to be.” He finally met Moira’s eyes. “I only spoke to you to offer you the chance to join us before it’s too late, but it’s clear that you’re not interested. I shouldn’t have…” He trailed off, the facade slipping slightly.

“Yes,” Moira said dully. She felt numb and drained and more than a little surreal. “There’s a lot of things we shouldn’t have done.”

Joar laughed again. “Indeed.” 

Moira watched him carefully for any signs that he might turn aggressive if she tried to leave. She still didn’t think he would, but she had to accept that maybe she’d never known him as well as she’d thought. “I’ll be going now,” she said after a while, breaking the silence that had fallen.

Joar simply nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Joar,” she started, but he shook his head. 

“Don’t,” he said, sounding tired. “Don’t feel the need to say anything. You know what, I’ll just go and you can… do whatever, I don’t care.” He turned on his heels, slightly unsteadily, and headed back towards the concert hall. At the door he paused for half a second and said, without as much as looking back, “Goodbye, Miss Almea.”

Moira didn’t reply. She leaned on the railing, staring out over the garden without seeing it for maybe another fifteen minutes before returning to the dressing room to pick up her instrument. She didn’t care if it was too early to leave. She’d had enough of this party.


End file.
